


An Influencer with Influence

by kingsqueensroyalty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Developing Friendships, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Social Media, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27325996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsqueensroyalty/pseuds/kingsqueensroyalty
Summary: Harry James Potter was raised by his Aunt and Uncle. In an unloving household he grew to see himself as completely plain, this feeling was continued into his university career and emphasised when his first friend left him.Tom was the friend who left. He left Harry to become 'Tom Marvolo Riddle', social media influencer and model with millions of fans.Brought together once again by the universe, fate but mostly a Chemistry project. Will their friendship rebloom, will they remain slighted strangers, or will they become something more?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 18
Kudos: 323





	An Influencer with Influence

**Author's Note:**

> Did I write this in one big burst of chaotic inspiration? Yes. Did I write this instead of the chapter that should've been out a week ago? Yes. Even so, hope you enjoy! :D
> 
> I do not own Harry Potter.

It was a loop. A short clip of Orion Black jumping off a pier into a glistening blue sea, too sparkling to be real, with Tom Riddle’s deep, rich laugh the only audio. 

It had three-hundred and eighty-thousand likes. 

Ron scoffed from where he was watching it over Harry’s shoulder, the chipped phone screen not doing the video quite enough justice, his voice disgusted, “That entire group is sickening, half of his followers would cancel him if they realised how arrogant he truly is.” 

Harry shot him a flat look, too tired of the whole situation to roll his eyes, “Come on, Ron. You know ninety-percent of the school follows him. Hell, the staff probably would too if it wasn’t so weird.” He was half-tempted to throw the phone away from him in resignation, but the mental image of the phone flopping off the bed and shattering further convinced him otherwise.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, as all of his handles were named, was an influencer. His content wasn’t too far afield from the expectation of an attractive person's Instagram aside from a sprinkling of influential people on his page and a few too many causes he was involved with for it to be accidental - Tom Riddle wanted to (and did) stand out. Rising to relevancy through his looks and desirable lifestyle (funded solely through Abraxas Malfoy’s money and sponsorships), Tom Marvolo Riddle was the face of any modelling campaign that was worth anything in Britain. 

Harry knew though, that he wasn’t just his good looks. Riddle’s talents extended further, and scrolling lazily down the aesthetically layed out posts of his Instagram, the evidence jumped out at Harry, Ron having walked away bored.

The multitude of charity and various cause posts methodically spread across Riddle’s feed ensured he was untouchable reputation wise, but what his fans never seemed to notice (yet Harry never failed to), was he walked away with more attention on him than the cause.

When Tom Riddle spoke, his followers listened - and the size of that group was rapidly expanding.

Harry would have no problem with that, and further him, if that was the extent of his knowledge on Riddle. Unfortunately, though his fans would argue otherwise (obsessed as they were), Harry was forced to endure Riddle being in his daily environment. 

Whilst Riddle was on the grounds of the university, his PR perfect personality disappeared to a certain extent. Not that Harry could prove anything; Riddle was beloved by the student body and staff alike. The trail of crushed self-esteems and futures behind him were pushed onto his friends, and even then, the punishment was more than lax. Riddle was cold, unapproachable - but in the way everyone above a certain level of beauty and fame was expected to be. He got away with it and Harry hated him for it. 

Swiping off the page, carefully eyeing the button taunting ‘follow’, Harry shut his eyes and phone in one - pushing away the bitterness that threatened to overwhelm him. Swallowing the frustrated groan that attempted to escape him, Harry threw himself back into the pillows behind him. 

Harry and Riddle were in the same year of University. They had been acquaintances, if not friends in first year, before Riddle blew up and Harry found Ron and Hermione. Before their social standing and circles had flown so far apart they were never threatened by interaction again.

Harry and his friends, were, he thought - the image of regular students. They wore hoodies too many days in a row with stretched collars and fraying sleeves, and their shoes were scuffed and had odd stains from the grounds of the University. 

Riddle and his group were in the public eye and they knew it. What Riddle wore couldn’t quite be called a suit, but his outfits never failed to hold the same regal air. They seemed to exist on a higher plane than the rest of their peers, and all Harry could do was watch from afar. 

And now Harry was shoved into his sphere of notice once again, they were partners for a Chemistry paper. Hermione had completed the sub-unit in her free periods last year, so he didn’t even have her as a respite, opting out of the repeat class as she had.

Ron watched him from the other side of the room, twirling on his desk chair, pushing at the worn wood below him with his feet. They were lucky enough to be neighbours in halls this year, Hermione being on the floor above. Quite often did Ron rise to Harry banging his fist on their shared wall, a cheerful call of, ‘Breakfast!’ bringing him into the waking world. 

Arms folded and head resting lazily, his ginger hair sloping and concealing the upper half of his features, Ron called across the space, “Harry, mate. I love you, but you’re a drama queen. So what if you have an assignment with the devil-spawn that’s Riddle? Meet no more than necessary and get it done ASAP.” 

“Ron, you know the history between me and Riddle. I can’t just meet him and act as if he’s a stranger.” Harry lifted his eyes, the imitation of a puppy as he looked to Ron for guidance. 

Ron sighed and looked up, but there was some amusement in his eyes and the corner of his lips twitched, “Look, if he’s a complete bigot - I’ll sock him, alright? That’d make you happy?”

Harry laughed, though his chest still felt heavy, answering simply, “Very.”

Pushing himself off the chair, and pulling Harry up from his nest of blankets, Ron questioned, “Go bug Hermione and then head to dinner?”

Grinning, he pushed past Ron and out of the slim doorway, racing down the hall, “Definitely.” 

Laughing and recounting tales of previous nights and meals on their way to dinner, the trio quieted, shuffling together with heads down as they noticed they were going to intercept Riddle’s group on the way into the dining hall.

On the other side of the courtyard, Black and Malfoy’s jovial bickering was audible across the grass. Always the performative public figures they were, they projected their words for their trailing audience. 

A group of students that never seemed to have anything better to do than stalk behind the blossoming media-presences, always a step or two behind, left in the dust of the kicked gravel of Riddle.

Waiting for Riddle’s group and co. to head in first, they waited until their chatter could no longer be heard before they headed in. Taking their seats with their trays and tucking in they enjoyed their meals. 

Half-way through Ron wolfing his portion of chicken down, Hermione spoke, voice tinged with regret and worry, “Sorry I’m not there to work with you, Harry.’ 

She fiddled with the sleeves of her lavender jumper, glancing over to the central table where his cursed future partner sat, “But... Riddle probably won’t be too bad, and he’s always top of the year (except when I beat him of course), so it may actually be a beneficial arrangement in regards to your marks”. 

She was right of course, everyone wanted to work with Riddle, and it wasn’t due to his celebrity; the man was a borderline genius, not that he always showed it online. 

Ron’s fork dropped to his plate with a clatter that grated on the ears of everyone in his vicinity, luckily, as it usually was, it was only Harry and Hermione. 

Harry nudged his shoulder and placed the fork back by the side of the plate, wiping it before setting it down on the wood, “What's wrong?” 

Ron’s mouth just continued to hang open unattractively. Exchanging concerned glances with Hermione, they followed his gaze to see Riddle approaching. Theirs weren't the only eyes following his departure from his regular table, his scheduled table, he never deviated from it. 

Riddle was coming to Harry’s table. 

Harry felt like he could barely breathe, the surveying eyes on him were daggers, a flush raised in his cheeks under the scrutiny. Only Hermione’s sharp kick to his shin snapped him out of it. 

Riddle approached the end of the table, not taking a seat, posture remaining straight. He irritatingly looked right at home as if forcing himself into people’s spaces was an everyday thing for him. God, it probably was. He was probably invited right into people’s spaces, everyone as desperate to be close to him as they were. 

Humiliatingly, that was a group even Harry was a part of. Though he resented him and still remembered the emptiness that filled him when Tom left to become who he was now, the man had undeniable charm and magnetism. 

It was… addictive.

Riddle spoke, voice deep and velvety, a flirtatious embrace, “Harry.” 

Harry simply stared in response, at a point just past Riddle’s shoulders, consequently unable to distract himself from how broad they were. He fought to remind himself he owed Tom nothing. The man would be forced to grovel for his attention, be on the other side of things for once. 

He smirked as if he knew the very thoughts passing through Harry’s mind, body language somehow portraying a mocking bow and a jesting, ‘Very well’. He didn’t fidget, didn’t even flinch at the oppressive silence filling the hall. “Does Thursday evening, say seven, in the library - work for you for the Chemistry assignment?” 

That was in two days, and thanks to Riddle’s brilliant announcement the library would now be filled, no place to work. “Sadly, I’ve already booked one of the private biology cubbies for that night - previous work, I’m sure you can understand.” Harry hadn’t already booked one, but one was bound to be available, they weren’t booked out so early in the term.

His eyes seemed to radiate ‘touché’, “Of course. It was remiss of me to ask so late, anyway.” They had been given the assignment yesterday and they hadn’t seen each other since, this was the earliest Riddle could’ve asked and they both knew it. 

He continued, “I’m more than happy to accompany you there, once you’ve finished with your previous work. Eight, then?”

Riddle had Harry now; he couldn’t exactly refuse in front of everyone. What limited social credentials he had would be crushed into the mud, and as much as he hated to be alone with Riddle, it was better than being with Riddle in sight of an audience, again.

A fake smile plastered on his face, forcing his eyes to squint until he could barely see and clenching his teeth - Harry agreed, which thankfully sent Riddle back to his own table. His strides languid and proud. 

Harry wished he would trip.

At the side of him, Hermione and Ron exchanged looks, eyes wide. It was the first time they, anyone, had seen Harry and Riddle interact. It certainly wouldn’t be the last. 

Eight o’clock on the dot, Thursday evening, Riddle strolled into the cubby Harry occupied. Nodding at each other, eyes measuring, Harry tense and Riddle loose, he sat down on the chair opposite. 

Taking a crisp book out of the leather satchel at his side, it looked untouched as he cracked the spine, opening it wide on the table in front of him. Placing his stationary, though they could’ve been butchers’ cleavers for the way they caused Harry’s heartbeat to quicken, onto the table and pressing his weight onto his elbows, Riddle placed his chin on his cupped hands. His eyes were bright, nearly maniacal as they reflected the fluorescent lighting of the biology building, he spoke, “Shall we begin?”

And so they did, they worked mostly in silence that first night, and when they did speak, it was cold, only in concepts and rooted in educational terms, it lacked the fire their interaction in the dining hall had. It was flat, nonetheless, they had work to complete and it tragically could only be completed together - so, though it felt he had chains weighing on his neck, Harry mechanically agreed to meet with Riddle weekly. 

Of course, the man needed his number; “For exchanging the meeting details.” 

They wouldn’t be meeting here every time, the biology building was too far out of Tom’s way for that. The first glimpse of his taunting nature appeared here, as he expressed how precious his time was, and obviously - it was far too inconvenient to keep discussing their business in the hall. Tom had his own food and friends to attend to - and at least he wouldn’t have to deal with Harry’s expression of swallowing a pigeon over text. 

Just like that, he left. He was gone and Harry had peace for another week. Except he didn’t, 

It started innocently enough, a few more of the people in his lectures adding him on Snapchat despite the fact his friend request must’ve been sitting there unnoticed for months beforehand. A couple people stopping him around the campus or in the halls on his way to the library and labs - conversation always beginning regularly enough, ‘Hey, how are you? Great, that’s great.’ and continuously devolving into, “Is Tom as hot as he is online up close? Is his voice really that deep?”

Harry was sick of it by their next meeting. He was snappish and rude, and harsher than he even Riddle deserved. It came to head when Riddle cut his sentence off and raised an eyebrow as Harry scoffed at a proposed idea. 

Harry collapsed, leaning back into the hard plastic chair he inhabited, running a jagged path through his, more greasy than not, hair with his hand. He looked up with eyes deep set in dark bags, “Sorry. I’m tired, I guess. This week hasn’t been exactly restful and though it’s mostly your fault, it isn’t entirely your fault - and my attitude is uncalled for.” 

Riddle’s expression didn’t soften, Harry wasn’t sure he was capable of it, but his eyes no longer seemed to want to set Harry alight. So his apology was considered accepted, “Let’s not have it happen again then, Harry.”

A tired university student looked back, surviving on luke-warm cups of tea and drowning in unfinished assignments despite it barely being three weeks in, “It won’t, Tom.”

After that, there was what could be called a slight development. 

The pair would nod to each other on the grounds, in the halls and if were close in the dinner line, but no words ever passed their lips. They were civil when they met for Chemistry and Harry never resorted back to ‘Riddle’, but they never addressed the past between them and they certainly couldn’t be called friends.

Until... well, until they were.

Harry wasn’t too sure how it happened, but somewhere between their weekingly meetings and the according texts to arrange said plans, Tom added him on Snapchat and began sending Harry short clips of his friendship group’s daily shenanigans. Behind the scenes stuff that gossip columns would’ve killed to see, somehow, Harry realised he had made his way past the first barrier of Tom’s defences. 

Though, unknown as it was to Harry, he had never left.

In return, as apprehensive as they were about the whole thing to begin with, Tom received clips and silly shots of Ron and Hermione. He moved on to, and up Harry’s best friends list embarrassingly quickly. His actual best friends he spoke to in person everyday, living with them as he did, and he wasn’t close with too many other people. 

When Tom began to send Harry blog posts and articles he found infuriating or interesting, it was never too difficult to tell which, as Tom’s tastes were becoming more known to Harry and vice versa. 

At their weekly meetings, Tom now arrived with two cups of tea - originally claiming it an error on the shop’s behalf, but it soon became routine - and Harry took over the typing up of notes, knowing now (like he knew his own preferences) that Tom was far happier reading and verbally condensing to Harry. 

Their meetings became more efficient, but also more enjoyable. A double edged sword as the need for them reduced but the want for them increased; they became an hour or two of Tom’s life where he wasn’t ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle’ and Harry wasn’t ‘just Harry’ - he was someone who was listened to equally and not shoved away and ignored.

As the Chemistry assignment was turned in, Tom continued on with their routine without blinking, an agreement of silence fittingly unspoken. The meetings, now time between two friends that more just happened to be beneficial to their education, than anything so serious as to have deadlines - moved from study cubbies and libraries constantly, to only partially.

Some evenings when the workload weighed heavily on their shoulders and sleep threatened to drag them under, in public or no, they moved to their hall room (in Harry’s case) or apartment (in Tom’s case).

It was through this sharing of space and crossing of previous boundaries which led to Harry being introduced to ‘the group’ (the introduction didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the university), and Tom to Ron and Hermione.

Hermione and Tom became friendly-rivals and quickly began to debate matters that flew over Harry and Ron’s heads as soon as they were in a room together, with the watching pair just grinning fondly and sharing observing laughs. Ron and Tom weren’t so quick to get along, but they did in a steady sort of sense, any hostility worn away by continuous exposure and the knowledge it would upset Harry for them not to like each other. 

Harry was equally well received by the group, perhaps not as warmly as it wasn’t their style, but they all secretly acknowledged Harry as the perfect addition. He brought some much needed softness to their lifestyles and they all privately thought him adorable, though they would never voice that opinion in front of Tom as his glares were icy and tone scathing.

So in private they were Harry and Tom, and in public they were not that - but they were also no longer two separate entities. Their peers, their spectators, watched in heedy anticipation of the colliding of worlds they were sure was to come. 

On Tom’s feed, the most recent picture, was a picture of Harry. Greyscale with the library lights reflecting off of his glasses, with books around him and a highlighter hanging out of his mouth - and of course his hair was a mess. The caption: ‘My Study Buddy’ was worst of all. Innocent, as if it wasn’t aware of the ground-shaking impact it would have on Harry’s life, it included his username. 

With his fear settling at the back of his throat as a heavy lump, Harry clicked into the comments. It was flooded with comments asking who he was, more specifically who he was to Tom, speculations already aired that he was a new fling. 

Looking on Hermione’s phone and account as he was, he didn’t have to face the flurry of notifications screaming at him he had hundreds of comments mentioning him and demanding more of his identity. Shaking fingers that he hardly recognised as his own clicked onto his username, viewing his account as a spectator. 

Twenty-thousand followers. Tom now being one of them.

He had one-hundred and eighty-six that morning. 

Harry went to Tom to complain that very morning. He found him on the lawn with his perfect skin, perfect posture and the perfect pose in the sun. The entire group was there, thankfully the trail of groupies excluded. 

“Tom, what the hell? You can’t just post pictures of me without telling me - I have twenty-thousand people following my account, my life, now. I didn’t sign up for this.” Tom looked innocent under the rays of the sun. Harry couldn’t stand it, so he shifted. He knew those eyes were too innocent, a farce but he couldn’t help but be sucked in. 

Tom’s position on the stone bench, thanks to Harry’s restlessness, in the shadow of Harry’s figure, seemed tactical. Though there was no way for him to have planned for Harry to confront him here. God, the man was in his head - as always. 

“Look Harry, I had no idea that my fans would overreact as they have. It’s just they’ve taken to you so well, they love you already - I didn’t know it would upset you as it has.” He reached out, as if to take Harry’s hand, before letting it drop - “I’ll have to address it, but that can be the last picture of you I post. I can’t take back what’s already happened but we don’t have to add to it.”  
Harry breathed out through his mouth, slow and careful like Hermione told him, “Tom, I’m not like you. I’m not made to be admired and looked at, I’m just... just Harry.” 

Tom’s expression was predatory, grin pulling at his cheeks and the light tightening in his eyes, “Oh Harry, I couldn’t disagree more.”

There was a livestream a few days later, Tom didn’t do them often, as busy as he was; so they were always well attended. Even more odd, was the fact he was alone. Normally he would have his entourage of friends, playful and charismatic, a cast of bright, beautiful and lively characters, though props next to him. Yet, he was in his bedroom with warm lighting that made the shadows surrounding him rich, but not harsh. 

His eyes roamed over the screen. All of the comments were about Harry. 

From his place on his bed, tucked up between soft white sheets and plush white pillows,Tom hid his grin rather well. Turning as if he was looking at someone off camera before nodding silently, accepting the non-exist tip. He answered the various questions vaguely, skillfully keeping the information he gave limited, but enough to keep people off his back. 

“Harry’s not too happy with me for putting him on the account, right now. He’s... shy. But, I’m glad you guys like him.” Tom specifically did not answer the question of if they’re dating, as Hermione was only too happy to point out from her position next to Harry as they watched it.

Harry and Tom came to a sort of agreement after the livestream. Harry would no longer be a hidden aspect of Tom’s life, but he would not be a feature of the account as the others were. 

Harry became a frequenter of Tom’s Snapchat story, though it was natural and they just messed about with filters and spent time together as they would’ve previously. It was an almost jarring comparison to the staged group pictures and skits his audience had previously seen of his friends. 

The fans ate him up because Harry brought something to Tom’s life and account that had been sorely missing; authenticity. They hadn’t noticed it had been missing before, but now they had it, Tom’s audience had never been so engaged, his growth so rapid - and as a consequence, so was Harry’s. 

The figures rose, ticking past milestones that seemed incomprehensible a month ago, like a clock. The people flocked to Harry’s account from Tom, but they stayed for Harry. His feed had not changed much since he appeared on Tom’s page, except from the fact Tom could now freely feature on it. 

Hermione and Ron, and their quieter type of antics and fun were still the main focus. Plus, Harry could not be blamed for the influence of Tom that bled through. It was his life too now; he was surrounded by it. In between quiet, flickering polaroids of him, Ron, Hermione and her cat Crookshanks, curled up by the fireplace in their halls - there were shots of him and Tom stretched in the backseats of convertibles (looking like models on a shoot, but in actuality waiting for Orion and Abraxas to ‘Hurry up! and get back from Tesco).

Throughout it all, their relationship slowly made the shift all the spectators had been waiting for - they were now, always, Tom and Harry. In public and private. 

In quiet tones, where no mics or cameras could find them, Harry confessed to the effect their past acquaintance and Tom’s departure from his life had on him. “You left me, Tom. You left me to be involved in all of this, and now you’re back and you’ve pulled me into it too.”

“Harry, please believe me. I wanted you with me from the beginning.” Tom’s hand lay on Harry’s cheek, smoothing as if it could soothe the pain he caused years ago. 

“I started this as a nobody and nobodies don’t get to make demands of the somebodies. I wanted to make a difference. Through posting myself for the world to see, I realised I could.” He shifted so he was on his side, head resting on his folded arm, elbow digging into the material of the carpet from their place on the plush living room floor. 

“Somewhere along the lines, I lost you in that and it was the worst part of it all. The criticism, the constant hate that comes with being in the public eye, the distance I had to put between myself and my peers - was nothing to losing you.” It was the most earnest Harry had ever heard Tom, and the confession lifted the weight he hadn’t even realised still resided on his heart.

His pause seemed to make Tom panic, “Honestly, you can ask Abraxas or Orion - I didn’t shut up about you in the beginning, not until I realised just saying someone’s name too often in public could bring them unwanted attention. But I tried to be in as many of your classes as I could, and I thought about trying to get you back at least once a day-”

Harry cut off the rather uncharacteristic rambling, as endearing as he found it, by pressing his lips to Tom’s. The response came as soon as Tom realised what was happening. The pair didn’t move from their place on the floor until well past what they expected. 

It was four months later, as torturous as it was for Tom to postpone telling the world of his love, they officially told his fans. There was a post about it, Tom’s most popular one yet in fact.

It was him and Harry in a park, entwined together on a classic wooden bench. Flowers reaching around them and the sun and smiles on their faces, the quality of the pictures being professional thanks to the quality of Tom’s phone camera - the caption read: ‘Introducing my boyfriend, the lovable @harryjames.’ 

Tom’s followers flooded Harry’s page with comments, waiting in suspense for the post they knew would follow Tom’s. The post that did come blew people away.

It was Tom in a hallway, a drab and plain one - the most basic background he had ever been seen against. He was wearing a scarf, red it appeared, but the end of it disappeared behind the camera, in the grip of the photographer who was pulling Tom forward. Tom came forward willingly with a look in his eyes, a light, that his audience had never seen. They’re fairly sure it was love. The caption confirmed it: ‘I love this absolute dork, @Tom_Marvolo_Riddle <3’.

Around six months later a graduation post of the group was uploaded on Tom’s account; Ron and Hermione included. It was less composed than Tom’s normal feed, though there was still champagne flying and there was no hair out of place on his head despite Harry hanging his arms around his shoulders. The caption was simple, but celebratory: ‘We did it!’. 

Harry’s post was quieter. It consisted of him and Tom curled up on one end of a sofa with Ron and Hermione curled up on the other end. Abraxas, Orion and Tom’s other friends were spread across the living room floor, and on spare chairs and seats, looking mismatched and scattered - quite out of place against the common furniture compared to their normal perfection, but with drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces - they all looked content. The caption was happy: ‘The Class of 2016 and my family <3’.

The three years after university only served to make Tom bigger than he had been, bringing everyone around him on the rise too. Harry was a staple of his account and was involved also, in most projects and causes that caught Tom’s attention. 

Orion and Abraxas continued to be key figures in the public retelling of Tom’s life, both well respected and flourishing in their respective fields - Orion as a fashion model and Abraxas as a successful investor and the head of one of the leading tech-startups. 

Ron and Hermione were equally vital to Harry, Ron’s recipes bringing him fame and renown of his own shortly out of university and Hermione being the prodigy that she was, shot through the ranks of British politics - already well acquainted with being a public figure.

Tom and Harry had been Britain and the internet’s favourite couple, so it was to no surprise but still overwhelming happiness, that the third set of announcement posts appeared on their feeds. 

The post on Tom’s feed was reminiscent of the loop that Harry first saw, though this time Harry was in the sea and there was no bitterness involved. Hair wet and glistening, pushed back behind his ears - a slight sunburn was visible on the bridge of his nose that stretched across his cheeks, but he was smiling wide and bright, looking directly at the photographer. The caption read: ‘Introducing my lovable fiancé’ - there was no tag this time, it wasn’t needed. Everyone knew who Harry was, who he was to Tom. It quickly and easily surpassed their last relationship announcement for Tom’s most liked post; three-point-two-million likes.

Harry’s post was as always, more casual than Tom’s. It was a greyscale of Tom laying in bed, on his side, hair messy and head buried into a pillow. The sheets were white and came up to his shoulders, his face barely poking out of the gap, but his eyes were visible - and crossed sillily, looking at Harry, though in double. The caption read: “Can’t believe I said yes to this - guess he’s my dork now <3”.

The top comment was Tom’s, with six-hundred-thousand likes; ‘Have been and will be, forever and always’.


End file.
